


make a wish (or two)

by someplacewarm



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Batbrothers (DCU), Batfamily (DCU), Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24028513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someplacewarm/pseuds/someplacewarm
Summary: "You, Damian-whatever-your-middle-name-is, need my help?"Damian's plans to parent trap Bruce and Talia are anything but foolproof. Jason agrees anyway.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 321





	make a wish (or two)

**Author's Note:**

> My Talia is a pre-Morrison Talia and other than Red Hood: the Lost Days (except the last few pages) this isn't really canon compliant. 
> 
> Warning: mentions of sea food, nausea.

“I need your help.” 

The statement comes out of Damian's mouth flat and hushed halfway through Jason's weekly ambrosia salad preparation. The entire hallway is empty, spare Tim who's sprawled out in an uncomfortable position on one of the lounge chairs. Jason doesn't bother waking him up -- isn't it Bruce who said the best way to learn from a mistake is to make it? Jason refocuses his attention on Damian, who shuffles from foot to foot in clear discomfort. 

“You,” Jason repeats, shoving a mini marshmallow into his mouth. “Damian whatever-your-middle-name-is Wayne, need my help.” 

“I believe I said it clearly the first time, Todd,” Damian retorts sharply, pulling up a chair in front of the kitchen counter. 

“Just wanted to make sure I haven't lost my hearing in this ripe old age, kiddo,” Jason replies, earning him a gratuitous eye roll. “Anyway, who's on the hit list?” 

Damian scoffed. “As if I'd need your help tying up a loose end,” he retorts. “No, this matter is more...personal.” 

“If you've got girl problems,” Jason says, looking up from his mandarins. “Or boy problems -- if that's your thing -- I'm sure you have Grayson's phone number.” 

Damian flushes deeply but his eyes sparkle with frustration. “Why won't you let me finish, you imbecile?” 

“Because you're taking too long and I need to can these pineapples, you toad,” Jason says. “Bruce and I are fighting, so I need to be done before he gets here.” 

“Well, as you know,” Damian begins. “My birthday is happening in three days.” He looks at Jason, like he's challenging him to make fun of him. Jason simply shrugs and begins skinning the oranges. “Richard is throwing me a party but for dinner I'd like…”

The rest of Damian's words fall to a mumble as he hangs his head. Jason frowns. “What?” 

“I'd like both my parents under the same roof.” Damian said quietly, meeting Jason's eyes briefly before turning to look at the oranges. 

“Oh.”

If Jason is being honest, he has no idea what to say or how to help. Hell, he couldn't save his own parents’ marriage, what could he say about a relationship as volatile as Bruce and Talia's?

“You know, I'm not really sure if I can be of much help,” Jason says, crossing his arms. “I mean, Bruce and I are hardly on speaking terms and I'm not exactly friends with Talia.” 

“But you're the only one in the family, apart from me, who is acquainted well with both of them,” Damian protests. “Richard and Mother both took the hassle to co-parent me when Father was dead but they're hardly civil. You're the only one capable of the job.” 

“I don't know --”

“Todd,” Damian barks, shooting the sleeping Tim a glance. “Mother tolerates you. Likes you, even. As for Father, he's always got that look in his eye whenever your name comes up --”

“What look?” 

“The _look_ , Todd,” Damian snaps impatiently. “You really need to be studying Father more.” 

“You can study him as long as I have and still get an F, kid,” Jason says, picking up his bowl to give it a good sniff. “Playing Parent Trap with the world's most dangerous woman and the world's most deranged man sounds like a suicide mission.” 

“Your endless optimism is charming,” Damian retorts dryly. “Talk to Father. If you can get it done, I'll owe you one.”

-

The cave is dark, the only light coming from the Batcomputer. It washes Bruce’s hunched figure in a glowly yellow, throwing long shadows behind him. Overhead somewhere, Jason can hear the bats chirp in quiet conversation. Bruce taps his fingers every now and then, grunting in greeting when Jason pulls up a chair beside him. 

“So,” Jason says. “Talia’s in town.” He grimaces at himself for coming in strong with a direct approach. Perhaps he should’ve started with a better topic like the weather or something before easing Bruce into this. 

Bruce’s fingers still for a moment. “Hnn.” 

He’s still staring at the screen, absorbed in whatever case file he’s decided to ruminate this week. Jason sighs. Now that he’s actually here, sitting in front of Bruce, he realizes that his task is quite Herculean. He can only hope Damian’s having better luck somewhere. 

“Did you need something?” Bruce asks, glancing at Jason momentarily. 

Jason half wants to skip out of here, feeling sheepish for even coming downstairs in the first place. Family drama was not something he had signed up for -- especially not with the three most notoriously volatile people he knew. 

However, Jason’s never had self preservation so he soldiers on, wiping his sweaty hands against the cloth of his jeans. 

“Well, _I_ don’t really want anything,” Jason says. “I’m more of a messenger for the cause.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

Great. He’s thrown Bruce off his rhythm. Usually that’s the worst time to approach Bruce about anything. He’s like a bear -- best encountered when calm and without an empty stomach. 

“Damian wants you and Talia to take him out to dinner for his birthday,” Jason finishes with an exhale of breath he didn’t know he was holding in. The bandaid’s been ripped off now and not even half as subtly as he had thought. “Together.” he added, in case the message wasn’t clear. 

“I see,” Bruce replies, his face impassive. Jason _hates_ when he does that; he wants to throw a brick at his face, just to force some semblance of emotion out of him. “And he came to you?”

The question is laid out curiously, like Bruce is trying to figure out Damian’s ulterior motives here. Jason shakes his head. “I know, I was surprised too,” he said. “But I told him I’d have a word with you, so here we are...having words.”

Bruce looks at him for a moment before returning to clicking away at his keyboard. Jason feels embarrassed for some reason, like he’s the one begging them to come together. He feels like a teenager with divorced parents on a crappy daytime sitcom. 

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

The statement comes out flat, like a rejection. It irks this childish part inside Jason that’s never liked taking no for an answer. Especially from Bruce. “You don’t think it’s a good idea for your only son to have his only birthday wish come true?”

“He’s not my only son.” Bruce frowns. “And it’s not a good idea to see her.” 

“Why the hell not?” Jason demands. “Surely there’s some part of you, deep down, that wants to reconnect, right? See your ex after years of not seeing each other, stuff like that.” Jason has no idea how that would even remotely sound appealing to anyone -- especially with a history like Bruce and Talia’s -- but he thinks he deserves some credit. He’s hanging on loose straws here, given that Bruce looks like he’d rather fight Joker and Bane together than sit and eat dinner with Talia. 

“I see her enough.” Bruce states, like it’s the end of the conversation. He goes back to the screen, looking more bothered than before. 

Jason rubs at his temples. “You ever think about how most conversations with you involve a lot of emotional labor from the other party?” 

Great, now he’s Dick Grayson, throwing around terms like that unironically. 

Bruce pushes himself away from the screen and back into his chair so he can properly face Jason. “Why do you care, Jason?” he asks, “This doesn’t concern you.” 

“It doesn’t,” Jason snaps, standing up so he can gain a higher ground over Bruce. “But the kid asked me to help ‘im out and I thought, hey, when I was little my parents barely even talked to each other without yelling or beating each other up and by the time I was old enough to play peacemaker, they were both dead, so maybe -- hear me out -- just maybe, my kid brother with both his parents alive and well right now could use some bonding time?” 

Bruce stares up at him like he’s unsure of what to say. The word ‘brother’ rests heavy on Jason’s tongue, like he’s crossed a barrier that he can’t go back on. Bruce notices it too. It unsettles both of them. 

“I’m sorry. I just don’t think,” Bruce says carefully. “Talia and I are at a place right now where we could eat dinner very peacefully. Together.” 

They stare at each other for a second and Jason feels so goddamn weird being here and playing peacemaker. He wonders if this is how Dick feels every time he steps into the Manor. Except Dick probably thrives on this shit. On being the one to save a failing relationship. Jason just wants to give up and go home. But the thought of Damian being disheartened tugs at him, a little. Kid brother, he’d called him after all. 

“I mean, Bruce you’re probably right about not being able to be peaceful with her but the brat doesn’t know that. He’s still thinking there’s a shot at saving this, probably.” Jason demands. “Are you really going to make Damian pick between his mom and his dad on his birthday?” 

“She can have him for the night, if she wants.” Bruce replies gruffly. 

“Not the point, dude,” Jason says, yanking at his own hair in frustration. He stops in his tracks. “Hold on. How about I come with you?” 

“Jason --” 

“I mean, I've saved you from bad dates before, right?” Jason suggests. “It'll be a lot less awkward if we all go together. More the merrier. Win-win.” 

Except Jason regrets it the second he says it. He already buried himself too deep agreeing to help Damian out but now? He was too far gone. Besides, he wasn't sure if Damian would appreciate him butting in like this. And he really didn't want to be caught in this mess. 

“I -- are you sure?” Bruce looks confused, like Jason's out of his mind. He's not too far from the truth, if Jason's being honest. 

“Wait, if I say yes will you say yes?” Jason asked. Jason Todd, cause of death #2: never knew how to take no for an answer, he thought. 

Bruce paused. “Maybe.”

“I'm taking that as a yes,” Jason says, already sprinting to the elevator before Bruce can change his mind. “The Oyster, nine o’ clock. Wear a tux and don't be late!” 

When he's in the elevator, he realizes this might not actually be a win. He didn't know what he was thinking, offering himself up like that, and he didn't know what Bruce was thinking either, assuming that things would go smoothly if Jason was there to play peacemaker.

He reaches for his phone and dials Damian. He picks up on the second ring. “Well?” 

“I've got good news and bad news,” Jason pipes up, rubbing at his temples for the billionth time. “Good news is, your dad's agreed to come.” 

“Oh...I see.” He sounded surprised, like he couldn't believe Jason had pulled that off. “Bad news?” 

“I kinda, um, offered to come with,” Jason says sheepishly. “To dissipate the tension. Make sure things are civil between them.” 

“Mm.” 

It's not disappointment, but he doesn't sound too excited either. 

“Look, I can always cancel last minute,” Jason explains. “The important thing is, he's agreed. How’d it go with Talia?” 

“She has seen reason as well.” Damian says, though his tone isn't as excited as Jason hoped it would have been. Maybe he was premature in thinking this would have brought at least a smile on the kid's face. “She said okay.” 

“Great.” 

“Todd,” Damian said, like it was an afterthought. “I think it's best you come with us.” 

Jason held back a groan. “ _Why?”_

“If Father and Mother have a row, I'm starting to think I'll need you there.” 

“Careful, Boy Wonder. I'm starting to think you're running out on your favors.” 

“Don't be late, Todd. And do wear something other than your hideous leather jacket.” 

“Keep talking shit and the shrimp we have for dinner isn't gonna be the only thing that's fried, Damian.” 

“I'm vegetarian.” Damian says and that's the end of that phone call. 

.

One word for the Oyster is fancy. Jason’s been here roughly six minutes and he hates it already. His neck feels stuffy with the bowtie that he tied _himself_ (after spending an hour on YouTube figuring it out). His own fault for having a self-tie lying around but not a clip-on. Turns out the memory of putting on a bowtie was something the Pit graciously decided to toss out. 

He sighs. The evening hasn't even begun and all of Bruce and Alfred's rich people problems are already rubbing back on him. 

He's about to open up his phone and have a word or two with Damian about the importance of other people's time when a car that's too high-brand to be any old Gothamite’s pulls up. It's foreign made -- vintage. In more ways than one, it's a gorgeous fucking car. 

Talia Al Ghul steps out, moments later, in a white silk fabric dress that looks more expensive than the entire ground the restaurant was built on. The click of her heels attract the gaze of nearly everyone nearby, like they're in some kind of 50s Hollywood movie. It hasn't even been a minute since she's stepped out of her car and she's already intimidating Jason to no bounds. 

“Jason,” she says, pleasantly enough that he knows she's killed five people at the very least before coming here. “You look very spiffy. Is that a new take on the Windsor bowtie?” 

“Oh come on,” Jason scoffs. “It took me twenty minutes to get this far, you should be happy I've agreed to this bourgeois nonsense.” 

“If you thought I'm the type to settle, you don't know me at all.” Talia says, clicking her teeth. She tugs at Jason's arms and makes him face her, before undoing the bowtie and settling it herself. Jason feels a little awkward, given they are in the lobby of a seven star restaurant and he does feel all but five years old but she pays no heed. She simply works over the bowtie and reties it in a way that looks both incredibly sophisticated and feels way more comfortable than from how he did it. 

“Thanks.” He says, clearing his throat. “I'm glad you're here. It was kinda awkward standing here by myself.” 

Talia hums. “I take it you've been invited as a chaperone for dinner tonight?” 

“You bet. It’s good to see you, Talia.” He says, surprised when he realises he genuinely means it. He holds out his elbow and she latches on, her palm firm against his suit. Before he can respond, another car pulls up and Jason grins. The absolute nerve of Bruce to pull out the Bentley tonight, over the Aston Martin. He wonders if Bruce will let him drive it, if he plays his cards right. 

Bruce and Damian step out and Jason can tell they've had like, four arguments already.

“Mother,” Damian says, stiffly. 

“Damian,” she replies, a tone happier than Damian, which was a surprise. She bends down and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, my love.” 

Which reminds Jason of his own, hastily wrapped, last minute present. He wasn't even going to give one, considering he was wearing his patience thin just by being here. In fact, he wasn't even going to give Damian anything for his next twenty five birthdays, if it wasn't for Dick needlessly prodding him about how Damian saw him as a brother and valued him and all that sentimental crap that tugged his heart, if only a little bit. 

He hands his present to Damian, who's eyes widen briefly before he frowns.

“Talia.” Bruce says, nodding at Talia. 

“Bruce.” she responds, coolly, in the exact same tone as Bruce. She looks to Damian and Jason expectantly, like that's the end of that conversation. 

“Right,” Jason mutters, feeling a slight headache coming on. “I think the restaurant’s on the eighteenth floor.” 

“After you,” Bruce says, making way for Talia, who's hand is still latched on to Jason's arm. As she leads him to the elevators, Jason can feel Bruce's eyes on his back and he already knows this is going to be a tough night. 

Damian clears his throat. “Todd, hang on a second.” 

Jason thinks the entire group would stop with him, but Bruce and Talia carry on towards the elevator. Jason looks at Damian expectantly. He looks nice, hair all neatly combed, suit pressed. At thirteen, he already looks like he's the king of the world. 

Damian bites his lip for a second, looking almost guilty. “Thanks for coming with me.” He says, softly, looking at his feet. 

“Don't mention it,” Jason says, surprised he means it. “Come on now, I think I saw your mom pull out a dagger from her satchel.” 

Damian snorted, falling in line with Jason as they rushed into the elevator. “It’s a hand arrow.” Damian says, just for the two of them, as the elevator doors close. 

.

Dinner is not bad, but that's not to say it's great. 

“The curry was alright,” Talia remarked, dotting her lips with a napkin. “A little overcooked for my liking but not a surprise -- Gotham has always been poor in its culinary expertise.” 

Jason holds back a breath, because Bruce honestly looks like someone's insulted his own mother. Somewhere deep down in his tummy, an uneasy feeling begins to unfurl. 

“Gotham’s not for everyone,” Bruce replied coolly, in a tone that gave Jason a serious case of second hand embarrassment. 

“Yes, but it's satisfactory, just like the curry.” Damian intervenes calmly. “Right, Mother?” 

Talia cocks an eyebrow, but eventually purses her lips placatingly. “I suppose so.” 

“Great,” Jason says, leaning forward in his chair. He holds back a near nasty burp, though it would have been funny to let it rip and see his tablemates reactions. As different as they all are, he knows that would disgust them all to high heaven. He glances at the door. A few more seconds and he can angle his exit. “Speaking of Gotham, I think I should go, maybe patrol a bit? You know, ‘cause it's unguarded and all.”

Damian shakes his head at him and Jason has never felt more urged to push the kid off a chair. 

“Tim and Duke are on it,” Bruce says firmly. “Sit down, Jason.” 

His eyes are steely and forceful. Of course he's decided to hold Jason to his promise. Jason leans back in his chair and makes a rude gesture at a grinning Damian from under the table. 

“You haven't finished your soup,” Talia observes, since she's sitting directly across from him. “Is the Pit causing trouble again?” 

Her voice is balanced enough, blending just the right amount of concern with casual indifference, but he really wishes she wouldn't have said that because now Damian _and_ Bruce are giving him curious looks. 

And here he was hoping he could keep his newfound nausea that the Pit sometimes threw at him a secret. “It's fine, I'll be alright, thanks Talia.” He murmurs, avoiding Bruce's eyes. 

He thinks the conversation should end there, but Talia presses on. 

“You haven't even touched anything on your plate,” Talia says, waving a hand at his barely touched plates. “If you had told me, we could've concocted some kuding tea before coming here.” The thought of a cup of tea does bring him comfort-- especially when Talia's made such strong, good ones for him before whenever she stopped by -- but the look Bruce is giving him is near murderous. 

“He _hates_ kuding.” Bruce interjects, in that same clipped tone he keeps taking at Talia. He turns to Jason. “If you can't eat, we can go back to the Manor and I'll have Alfred make you dinner.” 

“I don't hate -- nevermind. Seriously, guys, I'm fine,” Jason replies, a little exasperated. He shoots a glare at Damian, who seems thoroughly amused at the fact that he's not the centre of his parents’ attention anymore. Funny how Jason thought that would piss him off. 

“I can switch with Todd, Mother,” Damian remarks, pushing his half-eaten kibbeh towards Jason. His remark is innocent but Jason can see through his shit-eating grin. Twat. 

“Nonsense, Damian,” Talia says, shaking her head. “We can reorder.” She turns to Jason. “How about some of that _fatoush_ we had last time at the Bowery?” 

Bruce puts a hand on Jason's shoulder. “I'm sure you mean well, Talia, but if my son's feeling unwell, it's my responsibility as a father to take him back home.” 

“Rightly said, Father,” Damian said, smirking delightfully. “We've got to make sure poor Todd doesn't get sick.” 

Jason's ears burn at that. It's not even like the Pit makes him violently sick, or anything, but the way Bruce and Talia won't stop looking at him like he's about to drop dead pisses him off. It doesn't help that Damian is deeply enjoying his parents' feud over him, which is strange because Jason thought he wanted them to get along. 

“He wouldn't have been sick in the first place if you hadn’t picked this restaurant, Bruce,” Talia hit back, near admonishing. Jason feels the Pit slush around his belly forcefully. He really shouldn't have had that extra serving of shrimp. “His triggers have always been whole grains and sea foods since his return but you wouldn't know that, given you avoid him like the plague.” 

“And I'm sure you know this because you're suddenly the world's leading authority on my children,” Bruce remarks, putting one hand down on the table. “I'm also sure I would come to learn of it myself if he had directly been given back to me once he returned, instead of being manipulated and kept from me.” 

With that, there’s a sudden silence at the table. Even Damian’s gone quiet. Talia's eyes shine in a glower at Bruce, sharp and insulting from across the table. 

“I think I've had enough tonight,” Talia says, plainly. She stands up, giving one last peck on Damian's cheek. “I'm sorry your birthday dinner didn't go as planned, my love.” Damian didn't look too upset, but he did look wide eyed at his mother's sudden upset in behavior. He looked like he was going to say something, but Talia stopped him. “I'm heading back to my apartment. Come visit me later, if you wish.” 

She steps around her chair and presses her palm against Jason's cheek. “Be good, Jason.” she says, before turning her heel and walking towards the elevator. She doesn't look back at Bruce once. 

“Father --”

Jason turns to Bruce, a sudden anger burning through his chest. He's so mad he's almost sick with it, though perhaps that's more the food than anything else. “What's wrong with you?” he demands. “We were having a civil time. Why did you have to bring up shit like that?” 

“She needed to know --”

“Bullshit she needed to know!” Jason says, slamming his hand against the table. Several people turn their heads to look at them, whispering in hushed voices. No doubt this outburst would do rounds in the tabloids tomorrow but Jason didn't care. “She tried to stall me from coming after you as long as she could. Did you know that? Even after I did, she never gave up on me. She doesn't have to check in with me every time she checks in with Damian but she does it anyway because she cares. Does it bother you that she cares about me? Why?” 

“Jason --” 

“Bruce the only reason I'm here, sitting in this chair right now, is because Talia loved you enough to bring me back,” Jason finishes, standing up. “I don't think you should have talked to her that way. Not when she's the only one that didn't pick sides between the two of us like everyone else did.” 

His head feels heavy and slightly dizzy but he can't afford any accidents. Not here, not after he got the last word in. Somewhere behind him Damian is calling his name but he ignores it and rushes to the elevator. His heart is thuds an unsteady beat and blood soars to the back of his ears. When he pressed the elevator buttons, his hands shake. As the glass doors close, he can see Bruce and Damian still sitting at their table and he thinks about how horrible this must all feel for Damian. How horribly they all failed to be adults, especially when it was most needed from them. 

Once he's outside, he finally throws up in an expensive rose bush. 

.

It's not until well after midnight that there's a knock on his door. 

He's half expecting it to be Bruce with a poorly thought out apology, but instead it's Dick. And Damian. 

“We need to talk.” Dick says, shouldering past Jason into his apartment. Jason primes his brain to find that punching bag he had thrown back in storage. He reckons he'll need it tonight. 

“If you think there's a snowball's chance in hell that what happened tonight was my fault --” 

“Shut up, Jason.” Dick says, and he sounds exhausted for some reason. Jason couldn't fathom why Dick would be exhausted when it was Jason who did all the work. Dick turns to Damian, who’s been uncharacteristically silent all this while, trailing behind him. “Tell him.” 

Jason looks back and forth between Dick and Damian. “What's going on?” 

Damian stares down at his feet. “I owe you an apology.” he says, stiffly. 

Jason raised his eyebrows at Dick, but Dick simply crosses his arms and leans against the sofa, like he's waiting for Damian to say more. 

“Have you ever heard of the door-in-the-face technique?” Damian mumbles, meeting Jason's eyes briefly. 

Jason blinks. 

“Kid, I've just thrown up three times in my bathroom sink and I have a feeling there's gonna be a fourth time. Get to the point, please?” Jason says, rubbing his stomach absently. He eyes Dick, who suddenly seems to have the uninterrupting patience of a saint. 

“It's when you make a giant request to a customer -- which you know they're bound to reject -- and they secede to a smaller request out of guilt.” Damian explains, crossing his arms. 

“Right.” Jason looks at Dick. “Again, what's going on?” 

“Dami, how about you go bring Jason a glass of water?” Dick suggests, and to Jason's surprise, the kid actually goes. Either he's scared of Dick's disappointment or Dick has somehow managed to train these kids to obey his every command. Jason thinks that's a useful skill to have. 

“You're not gonna like this one bit, but Damian played you, basically.” Dick explains. “He didn't really want Bruce and Talia to reunite for dinner. He expected them to both reject it, feel guilty for rejecting it and then have Bruce buy him the Fisher Price Dino Racer and Talia buy him a new Siamese cat -- out of guilt.” 

Jason rubs at his eyebrows. “Why couldn't he just ask them?” 

“Because Bruce said no to both,” Dick says, clapping Jason's shoulder. “The racer takes up too much space and the cat is just too much added responsibility if you consider our other pets. Which is reasonable, in my opinion.” 

“Right,” Jason mumbles, still confused. 

“I predicted tonight's dinner would go terribly,” Damian says, in a small voice from behind Jason. He hands the glass of water. “I thought they'd both feel guilty enough at the end of it that they'd offer to buy me whatever I want.” 

Jason whistles. He had played some pretty long cons in his life but this was the longest of long cons he'd ever seen. “I'm actually kinda impressed,” he says, taking a sip of his water. “What made you backtrack and end up here?” 

“ _Your_ reaction to Bruce and Talia's fight, apparently.” Dick says, in a tone that says _I know, I'm as surprised as you are._ “He didn't anticipate Bruce and Talia to fight over you, much less you being upset about it.” Dick shakes his head. “He felt guilty, once he saw how, um, emotionally invested you were.” 

“Wow.” Jason replies, draining his cup of the water. He feels a little better now, if only slightly. “I'd be mad if I wasn't impressed.” 

“Thank you.” Damian quips, sitting beside him. 

“Hold on,” Dick interjects. “Your end of the bargain’s not up, Damian.” 

Damian clicks his teeth and shoves his hands inside his pockets. “Sorry for the inconvenience. And thank you for the gift. It was thoughtful.” He rolls his eyes at Dick, who's now grinning widely, his tongue pressed behind his teeth. 

It was only the first edition, Kensington copy of the Black Beauty, but Jason shrugs. “You're welcome, kid.” 

Dick starts to shrug his coat back on, so Jason assumes they're leaving. He walks them to the door, going in tow with Dmaian. “So, did you get the Racer and the cat?” 

Damian shakes his head. “Father was mad, so he refused but Richard agreed to buy me both if I came here and told you the truth.” 

“I guess your birthday wishes are coming true after all.” 

They walk on to the driveway, where Dick's car is parked. Dick gets in and Damian's about to go too, before he stops in his tracks. 

“Todd,” he says, quietly. “Is it true, what you said, about Mother bringing you back to life because she loved Father?” 

All too suddenly, Damian looks young for his age, his eyes sparkling with that naive hope that the children of separated parents had. Jason recognizes it because he was hopeful too, once. While Damian is realistic enough to know the chances of his parents getting back together are zero to none, Jason knows there's still a part of him wondering. Hoping. 

“Sometimes people can still love each other even if they're not together,” Jason says, biting his lip. “I'd like to think that even at their worst, Bruce and Talia are looking out for each other. And you.” In their own deranged ways, at least. 

“And you.” Damian adds. 

“I guess.” Jason replies. He watches Dick pretend to fiddle with the radio, so that he and Damian can have the illusion of privacy. Jason snorts. He turns on his heel and begins climbing the stairs back to his building. “Happy birthday, kid.” He calls out, watching Damian retreat to the car. 

“Thanks, Todd,” Damian exclaims, skipping towards the door. “Try not to vomit on your way up.” 

And the moment was gone as soon as it arrived.


End file.
